


White Castle, Heaven Between Buns

by CoffeeAndConjunctions



Series: A Relationship As Told By Meals [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brief Mention of Graphic Violence, F/M, Hard Truths We Avoid and Choices We Make, white castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAndConjunctions/pseuds/CoffeeAndConjunctions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Soldier's sharp gaze scans over her face, she can't think of this look as Bucky's (and hates herself a little for needing the distinction) hand metal hand under her chin tilting her face up, flesh hand pulling at the collar of her shirt where a bruise is peeking out, his thumb brushes against the cut on her lip and she recoils at little at the sharp sting.</p><p>She expects his voice to be wrecked with anger from his expression but instead it's cool, pitched lower then she's used to hearing thought that could be because the words aren't in English. Over her shoulder he level a look of pure contempt at Natasha who replies to his words in her mother tongue. This close she can hear the whirl of his left arm, he's getting ready to pull back and the stiff posture he's got going on is pure trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Castle, Heaven Between Buns

Crouched behind the tree she resists the urge to peek out, instead relying on her sense of sound Darcy waits for a sign—any sign that it would be okay to move forward. A few heartbeats later there is no crunching footsteps or broken twigs so she makes sure her weapon is sitting snuggly against her shoulder and takes careful steps forward, avoid the tree roots and rocks she might trip over.

Left side, clear.

Right side, clear.

She hears three consecutive shots—one from above and two behind her, in a last ditch effort not to be hit she throws herself to the floor. Pain blooms at her left shoulder, right side and her hip, making it hard to breath with some difficulty she flips herself over to look up at the shooters. Copper flavor coats her tongue, she must have split her lip when she fell down.

“What did you do wrong?”

“There's more then left and right” she parrots back before letting her head fall back with a groan, “Ah, Nat—that shit hurts.”

“The real thing would hurt more. Spacial perception is key here.”

“Yeah, and yours sucks Lewis.”

“Fuck you, Clint.”

Laughing the archer holsters his paintball gun and reaches down to give her a hand up from the group. Winching she accepts the help, her body is peppered with blue and orange globs of paint—she's sure some of it is in her hair and is glad she'd braided it after all (it'll only take a billion washes to get it all off versus a gazillion).

“Your reaction time is still a little off but hitting the deck was a good idea.” Winking at her Clint rolls his shoulders a little before allowing his body to fall into a seemingly relaxed pose, Natasha nodded her agreement before looking down at her watch.

“You survived a half hour this time, not bad.”

“Half hour against Master Spies, not too bad for a desk jockey.”

“This was fun though—I'd love to get Stark here and fulfill all my fantasies of pulling the trigger on his ass.”

“Clint.” Two women castigate him but he just shrugs in that devil may care way of his, “It's true.”

“Come on, once more.”

“Natasha, please have mercy.”

Clint has already taken off with a happy little huff of a laugh at the look of horror on Darcy's face.

The ride back to the city is quiet (radio tuned to classical music, their compromise to different tastes), they've been gone for about five hours now—partly because the ride up to the wooded paintball field took about an hour. Clint and Natasha had run her through the gun drills until she was sure she could do it in her sleep, Natasha had come out unscathed but Darcy had clipped Clint's shoulder and rather happy about that.

* * *

On the way back they grab White Castle on 8th street, an amount that had made the cashier's eyes widen as Darcy keep adding to the order (a man behind her was giving her the stink eye no doubt because of the amount of time he'd have to wait for his own order, tough shit—she had Super Soldiers, Gods and a Hulk to feed).

 

When they reach the Tower, spreading their bounty on the table up for grabs for whenever the other's showed up after J.A.R.V.I.S informed them of the burger buffet, the trio dig into their meals (Darcy has a moment where she questions her sexuality watching Natasha sip at a straw). Clint is telling her about a mission in Cabo—while Natasha will at times correct an exaggeration—when Tony comes in like a whirl wind talking in vague scientific terms while piling his arms with burgers and fries (he assures her he will feed Jane and Bruce so she lets him go without much hassle, it is her day off after all.)

 

The army bros (which she is still waiting for the right time to christen them to their faces) are rounding the corner, no doubt coming in hungry from a gym session—sunny smile in place, despite the sting of her split lower lip she nearly chokes on a mouthful of cheeseburger.

 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

 

It's not the fitted t-shirt, which while nice she had seen the whole shirtless shebang before—it's not even the toothy grin on his face as he and Sam argue over something (it's always something with those two) that Steve looks exasperated over. No, it's the hand running through his hair—hair that looks completely different from last night. It's not the cut she'd seen in old black and white photos but it's not the shoulder skimming locks he'd been sporting since she met him. Instead his hair now must reach just under his ears in the back with a longer front that brushes his cheek before he coiffed it back into placed behind an ear. The beard he'd been forming is now a well kept, trimmed scruff and the hobo chic look is gone and in it's place is this—this (Oh God, there aren't words.)

 

When he looks at her that toothy grin disappears, for a panicked moment she thinks he's heard her thoughts and is disgusted at how she's drooling over him but his eyes flicker from her face to Natasha beside her (oh no, he's doing the murder strut towards them—where he unfolds the perpetual slouch of his shoulders and his jaw sets, pursing those full lips into a scowl).

 

The Soldier's sharp gaze scans over her face, she can't think of this look as Bucky's (and hates herself a little for needing the distinction) hand metal hand under her chin tilting her face up, flesh hand pulling at the collar of her shirt where a bruise is peeking out, his thumb brushes against the cut on her lip and she recoils at little at the sharp sting.

 

She expects his voice to be wrecked with anger from his expression but instead it's cool, pitched lower then she's used to hearing thought that could be because the words aren't in English. Over her shoulder he level a look of pure contempt at Natasha who replies to his words in her mother tongue. This close she can hear the whirl of his left arm, he's getting ready to pull back and the stiff posture he's got going on is pure trouble.

 

Cupping his face between her hands, pulling him closer (which she can only do because he allows it, she knows that) until she is all that fills his sight she searches his eyes, a frown of her own forming on her delicate brows.

 

“Bucky, what's wrong?”

 

From the corner of her eye she sees Steve approaching closer using small, silent steps. Barnes doesn't make to move, the set of his jaw tightens further and his blue eyes drill into her before moving back to Natasha. Mustering up all the strength she can, putting it behind he words Darcy pulls herself closer till they are nose to nose.

 

“Soldier, walk away—that is an order.”

 

Rigid muscles snap to attention, her own thumb is now tracing the sharp cut of his cheeks.

 

“Walk away.”

 

Nodding he extracts himself from her hold and walks out of the room—Steve at his right and Sam at his left. Slumping against the table she lets out a breath she hadn't know she was holding—she'd been terrified. Jumping when someone lays a hand on her shoulder she takes in the hard expression on Natasha's face and the way Clint is holding the gun Natasha kept in her boot in his hand.

 

“Do you have a death wish?”

 

The tone is all Black Widow, devoid of inflection—impersonal—Darcy feels like a bug under a microscope, one that has been found lacking. Shaking her head no she had not chance to speak before the Widow continues.

 

“Are you just an idiot then?”

 

“Nat, back off—this isn't the way.”

 

“Stop talking Barton.”

 

Clint clams up under Nat's cool look but doesn't make a move to leave the kitchen. Green eyes turn back to Darcy who is trying be strong beneath their gaze.

 

“You don't stand in the way of the Winter Soldier—I don't care what is going on between you and Barnes. He could have snapped your neck in the time it took you to make moon eyes at him.”

 

“So you'd rather I just let him attack you? Of course you would, cause you wouldn't have to deal with the fall out coming from him when he's Bucky again.”

 

“Wake up, Darcy. He is always the Soldier.”

 

“Don't, don't stand there and lecture me about taking a chance when the man who took a chance on you is standing right there. Where would you be without Clint?”

 

“Clint, show her—”

 

Standing he is shrugging off his jacket without an argument, Clint palms the back of his shirt and has it off in a smooth move. He's build like the rest of them, strong and muscled but on the leaner side. On his side is an impressive scar, jagged it cuts down and then does a little to the left, almost like an L. Like someone had tried to cut open his stomach.

 

“I gave him this after being away from the Red Room for three years—he had come at me from behind to put his arm over my shoulder in congratulations after my first solo mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. I reacted.”

 

Sighing she tugs at her red locks, a look of pain is bleeding past the Widow mask (Darcy thinks it might be worse then the blank slate.)

 

“This isn't a fairy tail, Darcy—you care for Barnes, anyone with eyes can see that, but all the feelings in the world wont wash away seventy years of H.Y.D.R.A programming. The instinct to hit first, hit hard and deal with the aftermath later.”

 

The trio is quiet, Barton is putting his shirt back on, Darcy has her arms around herself—Nat has deflated from the avenging demon she'd been just moment ago.

 

“W-what did he say to you?”

 

“ _Why have you damaged my Asset._ ”

* * *

Barnes spends the day in the dehulking cage in the bowels of the Tower that day—she hears this from Sam because the man himself has been avoiding her like she's disease ridden. In fact she won't see him for nearly a month and only then it's because she's angry enough to finally march herself up to Steve's floor and pound away at the door. J.A.R.V.I.S must have informed the occupants of the room who it is because it's Steve who opens the door.

 

“Darcy—”

 

“Where is he, Steve?”

 

“Look, now's really not a—”

 

“What? A _good time_? Well then tell me when it is I can pencil myself in for a good time!” her voice is just a few decibels short of a shout but she is past caring—she'd tried to handle this like an adult, she'd called twice, sent a few messages. All left unanswered but marked as seen.

 

So fuck him.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes you fucking coward, don't you do this to me.”

 

Eyes widening when she tries to barrel past him, Steve had just enough time to catch her around the middle and keep her from coming in. Her hand clutches at the sleeve of his shirt, nails digging into his flesh—not consciously, he knows that much because they shake from suppressed emotion.

 

“Let her in, punk.”

 

Steve lets his arm drop, she ducks past him and comes to stand in front of Bucky, small frame quivering (she feels as if she's going to explode at any moment) his eyes still don't meet hers. Instead he addresses Steve again.

 

“Sam is waiting for you.”

 

“Buck—”

 

“I'm good, go.”

 

“Alright.”

 

The click of the door signals the Captains departure, there's none of the usual warmth in Bucky's eyes when he looks at her—at her face not her eyes—it's nearly clinical. Stepping up onto the low coffee table they have, because there is no way he is going to look down on her after everything they've been through.

 

“How dare you. How fucking dare you.” hands clench into fists at her side, she's a few inches taller then he is standing on the table and she uses those inches to bear down on him with the weight of her fury.

 

“I can see what you are going to do—I've seen this fucking movie before. You're gonna tell me to stay away, how you are dangerous and trouble. Well boo—fucking—hoo, we've all got problems.”

 

A bitter laugh comes from his throat, the first reaction he'd had to her presence, “Problems? I was going to cave Romanov's pretty face in—beat my fist against the sweet, tender spot just beneath the eye socket until she choked on her own blood. Wouldn't be the first time I did that too a woman either.”

 

“It's. Not. Going. To. Work.” she grits out, “You aren't going to scare me away.”

 

“Then you are an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, well the sentiment is going around.”

 

A shaky hand hovers over his cheek, when she lays her hand down on the rough texture of his beard his eyes finally come up to meet hers and she's floored by what she sees. A storm of emotions, the slim hold of his control.

 

“Do you know why I was so angry? Why the Soldier reacted so strongly to such minor injuries?”

 

“Natasha told me—translated what you said. You called me an Asset.”

 

He flinched at the word but doesn't pull back from her touch, if anything he leans deeper into her touch eyes closing, almost as if he can't see it he can pretend it's not happening.

 

“Asset.” the word is spat out, “My Asset. An Asset is  _used_ to the advantage of it's handler.”

 

(She's not gonna lie, it smarts)

 

“And how is it that the Soldier would use me.”

 

“It's not the Soldier you need to worry about, it's the _man_.”

 

Giving into the urge she tangles her fingers through his hair, accustoming herself with the new length—ice blue eyes flutter open, his mouth is slightly agape as he sinks into her touch.

 

“How would you use me Bucky?”

 

“I want to take everything you are willing give, I want to lose myself in you.” He claws at her back bringing her flush against him, his face tucked into the crock of her neck—lips brushing against her skin with every word, “I want things I don't deserve”

 

“And so what, you think I can just forget about you?”

 

“I'm going to chose to do whats right for you. In time it'll go away. It's just infatuation, there is no happy ending here.”

 

“So you'll do to me, what they did to you?”

 

“What?” Jerking his head up he locks his gaze to her.

 

“Where is my choice? You can choose to stay away from me, you can choose to never see me again. That's fine, but you can't tell me how I feel.”

 

“Darcy—”

 

“Tell me, what were you taking when you stayed up all night reading me Robert Frost poems? What where you taking when you let me cry in your arms after my grandfather? What were you taking Barnes, what?”

 

Her fingers tighten in his hair but she doesn't pull or try to cause him pain—she just needs something to ground her and nothing does that quite like Bucky.

 

“Now, call me and idiot—fuck, I probably am fighting so hard for someone who clearly doesn't give a shit. But don't cheapen my feelings for you—or those moments I had. Because I refuse to regret them.”

 

Leaning down so their foreheads are touching she closes her eyes, breathing in a shallow breath before she continues—she's emotionally exhausted, not sure how much longer she can keep fighting.

 

“Let me be here,” the other hand unclenches from her side and cups his face so that it's angled toward her, “Let me be your friend.” her nose brushes his when she moves back, it's a deliberate action on her part—gathering her courage she opens her eyes (even if it's rejection she wants to see this, needs to see this)

 

“Let me be _more_.”

 

He doesn't reply, but he doesn't pull back either—Bucky looks torn, his teeth have sunk into his bottom lip and she smiles because here they are again (her hand in his hair, him biting his lips) so she hopes to give him one final push. Drawing closer she leaves just enough space between their lips for her to speak without brushing them.

 

“Do you want this?”

 

Exhaling sharply she can feel the corner of his mouth quirking up under the hand she had on his cheek.

 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

 

It's a tentative brush of lips at first, she doesn't wanna move too fast—doesn't want to scare away her skittish partner but she shouldn't have been afraid because once their lips connect Bucky takes charge of the kiss. The pressure of his mouth is welcoming, his tongue brushes the seam of her lips but doesn't push for her to open—it's like he just wants a taste, a tease—he pulls her clean off the table so that she had to wrap her legs around his waist to keep from dangling like a rag dolls in his arms. Hands splayed on her ass he takes on all her weight like it's nothing (which, duh super soldier but thoughts later, more kissing now).

 

Pulling back from the kiss (holy shit, the kiss) so she can say something totally witty she finds instead that she is laughing her way through their second one, the meld of his mouth turns needy and he rolls his hips into her, with a little nibble to her bottom lip he finally does release her mouth—pink is tinging the apples of his cheeks and it is not fair that he can be so goddamned sexy and so utterly adorable.

 

She never stood a chance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *rolls on the floors with feels* Just, leave me here to die. I deserve it. But they kissed--I repeat this is not a drill there were smooches! As always, enjoy this update and I will see you at the next one! A special thanks those reader who took the time to comment on the last chapters, your words of support always make my day!


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